


december dream log

by orphan_account



Category: No Fandom
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:01:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21715003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: She always had her hair down. In one flash of memory, they hugged, she tucked her head under his chin, the stray strands of hair splay wide on the sides of her face. He looked happy, content.Then something showed up. It's her. Wearing white instead of the warm earthy tones she used to don. Long dress, band of white across her forehead.A sign of death.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 1





	december dream log

I had a dream, a horrifyingly detailed rundowns of someone's life.

A young couple, living happily at their old shell of a house in the wood. There were a forest that surround their house, with none of the big leaves or spots of greens, yet the trees are straight and tall. They were happy together, love woven in the quiet tender haze.

She always had her hair down. In a flash of memory, they hugged, she tucked her head under his chin, the stray strands of hair splay wide on the sides of her face. He looked happy, content.

Then something showed up. It's her. Wearing white instead of the warm earthy tones she used to don. Long dress, band of white across her forehead. A sign of death.

She was in the forest again, the trees still sturdy and straight. A long noose of white hung down just right above her head. She look devastated, terrified, like her soul has been hollowed out from her eyes. Blackened rings surrounded it like scribbles. 

Her hand clutched tight on the noose. Eyes bored into who might be watching, desperate to communicate something will never be said. Much later, I noticed, her hair was tied up neatly into a low ponytail.

After that, blankness followed.

Cut to him, her husband. Now, he was stood alone in the house they shared, back turned, silent. The shadows around him seemed gloom. He looked old, more ever than before.

A man walked in, young, shappgy haired and full of anger.

"For 13 years, she writes you letters and you didn't read it." The husband sat across, quiet. I can't see his face, how he looked when he said he wanted to hear her voice.

"She was passed, from divisions to divisions (there were names). Every night. I couldn't save her, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry." The man wailed, still filled to the brim with the same frustrated anger, his voice sounds choked. He might be crying.

A series of flashed. Her face, horrid eyes following yours again.

Much later, when I'm about to wake up, there they are, the young couple no longer young. Lied down next to eachother in the old house. Faces up, still. Newspaper covered their bodies from the neck down. Her hair is let out, once more.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a retelling of a dream I had this morning. Usually my dreams are a jumbled mess, but not this one. The more I recall it, think it over, I discovered more things that made sense, which it shouldn't. 
> 
> It felt like a film reel, of something that existed.


End file.
